


Stew's ready in twenty minutes

by orphan_account



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Dysfunctional Family, Endeavour Morse Has ADHD, Family Drama, Gen, Talking about clothes, character building exercise, not an argument just two people who argue often, teenage Morse, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They never particularly liked each other, and the most she used his name was to scold him, but it wasn't all bad. Nothing ever is.
Relationships: Gwen Morse & Endeavour Morse
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	Stew's ready in twenty minutes

**Author's Note:**

> 15th nov 2020: i'm deleting my account but leaving this and a few others up as orphaned versions.

He stood in the doorway quietly, jumper under his arm, listening in on the sounds of her cooking and the talk show on the radio. She always told him to stay away from the stove, and he had always gladly done so, but there was a peculiar and bothersome problem about the habit.

It was him needing to speak with her, while she was in the kitchen. He would've rather stayed away as usual. Alas.

He knocked carefully on the doorframe and trained his eyes on the floor a few feet ahead of him, around her shoes. Didn't want to hear another lecture about avoiding her face but neither did he fancy a row about supposed glowering and ugly looks. He could've been upstairs, reading or listening to music before she told him to turn the noise down for the night.

'Gwen,' he said, ears already burning hot and throat constricting despite nothing more being spoken yet. 

She turned to give him a look over her shoulder. 'What is it? Did you do something?'

'No,' he said firmly, but his voice broke anyway. 'I didn't.'

'Good,' she said. 'The stew's ready in twenty minutes if that's what you was wondering.'

He shook his head and held onto his sleeve cuffs. His hands felt restless and he stumbled over his words. 'P- well, I... Cyril-'

She laid all the cooking knives and mixing spoons into soapy water. 'Yes, Cyril. What does your father want?'

'He says that I should ask you.'

He saw her deflate with a sigh. 'Right. What is it, then?' She turned to him, and her eyes were sharp. 'Stop that pouting, will you.'

He pulled the jumper out from under his arm, but couldn't bring himself to open the folds. He just squeezed it in his hands and stared at the floor, wishing that he hadn't come to her at all. 

'Come on, now,' she said, and he nodded. He just couldn't find the best way to put his words so quickly. 'These dishes aren't washing themselves up, you know.'

He nodded again. 'I know, I just need some help.'

'With what?' she asked and her voice turned more strained as she dried her hands. 'Right now? Is it the jumper? What's wrong with it?'

'No, not now, I just... I need it before school starts again, it's... there's a hole that needs mending,' he said, and felt terribly stupid. 'It isn't big. I didn't do it on purpose, it's just that I'm not- I'm not good at that-'

'How big is it?' she asked, exasperated. He didn't think she had any reason to, when he was trying to be so considerate, and it wasn't a terrible amount of trouble to begin with.

'Not too big.'

'I asked _how_ big.'

He tilted his head nervously. 'Well, it's not really a hole, more like a... an unravelling of- It's at the hem.' He unfolded the dark jumper and shoved it towards her from the door.

She walked up to him and gestured for him to hand the jumper over. They both looked at each other for a moment, she inspected the jumper closer, and handed it back to him. Then she went back to the dishes.

He could feel the dismissal wash over him; it made his skin crawl and his cheeks heat up again. 'It's not that big! And I didn't mean to get it ripped, I know it was expensive. It must've been outside somewhere,' he said. 

'I heard you the first time, Endeavour! Stop yelling,' she said firmly, and looked at him again. His heart was beating in his throat at her annoyed and condescending tone. 'Also said you don't need it done right now, you did.'

He nodded, and held the jumper tightly.

'Just don't pull it on until after I've fixed it, and it won't unravel any further.'

'Okay.'

'Put it away somewhere and I'll look at it after dinner.'

He stood in the doorway, holding the jumper tightly in his hands. He felt silly. She didn't believe him when he said he hadn't meant for to tear his clothes apart, he hadn't even noticed the hole until he was back home, and he'd been just as upset as he knew she must've been.

'Please go and put that jumper away, Endeavour.'

'Where?' he asked, too quickly and curtly, and saw it in her face too.

'Why don't you fold it down on the dresser in the hall. I'll find it from there. You don't need to carry it around.'

'I wasn't about to, either-' He cut himself off when she gave him another withering look. 'I'll put it on the dresser.' He went to turn away and let out a quiet breath of relief.

_'You're welcome,'_ she said from the sink, scrubbing a wooden spoon vigorously.

'Thank you, Gwen,' he forced out. He wasn't rude, he really wasn't. He just didn't want to ruin the jumper or bother her. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling flustered again.

'You need a haircut, too,' she said, and he dropped his hand immediately. 

'I don't.'

'Get out of kitchen, then. Twenty minutes.'

He pulled a face while turning away, and folded the jumper neatly up again, but she would've deserved it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, dysfunctional family situations are always interesting. If I can come up with more I might add some chapters to this later but for now this was just a little test with Gwen.


End file.
